


Chrysalis

by AuroraNova



Series: The Vadari Chronicles [11]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-24 16:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19727527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/pseuds/AuroraNova
Summary: “You said you were considering your options. Would you consider me?”With encouragement from Kara, Julian finally makes his move.





	1. Counsel

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to post this installment as a two-chapter story. Chapter 2 is in progress, but for now, here's Julian and Kara.

On day eight of considering the idea of a relationship with Garak, Julian decides he needs to talk to someone, and since he’s already spoken to Miles and unwilling to burden Ezri, there’s only one person whose opinion he can solicit.

In response to the doorbell, Kara calls out, “Open door. Come in!”

He spots her in the kitchen, blonde hair piled on top of her head in what she calls her cooking bun, with an array of food containers lined up on the counter. Kara is one of those people like Captain Sisko who loves to prepare food. She bakes more than Sisko, true, but if it involves turning ingredients into something delicious, Kara enjoys it.

She can also be counted upon to give the unvarnished truth as she sees it, which Julian needs right now.

“Hi Julian.”

“Am I interrupting?” He can’t even tell what she’s making.

“No. I can bake and visit at the same time, if you don’t mind that I’m not looking at you.”

“I don’t mind in the least.” Julian decides to get the easy part of the conversation out of the way first. “This reminds me, I keep thinking I should have you and Lutro over for dinner, but I’m nowhere near the cook you are. If you don’t want to risk my cooking, I won’t be offended, as long as you don’t think I’m a terrible friend who accepts dinner invitations but never returns the favor.”

Kara glances up from the dough she’s rolling out. “I figured. You’ve told me about enough your kitchen disasters, you know.”

“I haven’t burnt anything lately.” Still, he makes simple dishes, and Kara has him over for delicious, complicated-looking meals. “And to be perfectly honest, I’ve never been much of a host.”

“If you want tips, let me know. Meanwhile, don’t stress about cooking for us.”

She’s a good friend, and Julian resolves to find something else he can plan for them beyond racquetball. There aren’t any holosuites – they require far too much power – but he’ll look into other options not destroyed by the Breen, and if he can’t find anything suitable locally, he’ll look further. The system has three inhabited moons.

“Thank you,” he says. “What are you making?”

“A four-layer neka torte.”

Talk about proving his point that she makes complex food.

“The second layer has to chill overnight,” she explains. “It’s for tomorrow, which is Dad’s birthday. This was his favorite dessert.”

Unlike Julian, Kara has no difficulty speaking about her recent pain. Thus he knows her father and best friend both died in the Breen attack, and her only living relative is a sister on Vadari V with whom she’s not close.

“Beth is coming, and we’re having the torte in Dad’s honor,” she continues.

“A fitting memorial,” Julian says, thinking it’s going to be difficult to segue from Kara’s dead father to his romantic woes. Maybe he should come back the day after tomorrow.

“He’d have loved it. Alright, Julian, spill. You’ve had something on your mind for days.”

“It’s that obvious?”

“Yes.”

At least he doesn’t have to worry about the segue. “I either need a pep talk or to be convinced not to make a terrible mistake. I’m not sure which.”

“This sounds interesting. I could use a distraction.”

Julian can certainly help there. “Garak went on a few dates with Plestrendetrek.”

“Everyone in the neighborhood knows that,” says Kara. She has flour in her eyebrows, and it isn’t much of an advertisement for the joys of baking. 

“Have I mentioned that neither of us cares to be the subject of so much gossip?”

“If you weren’t so interesting, nobody would gossip about you.”

Julian doesn’t like her take on the matter. “I’ve tried to be as uninteresting as possible, and it hasn’t worked.” Granted, there aren’t any other genetically engineered former Starfleet doctors who’re friends with mysterious Cardassians around, but he can’t do anything about that.

“Then I guess you’re not good at being uninteresting.”

Or this town has the most active gossip mill in a dozen sectors, which, considering the rumors Julian heard on DS9, is really saying something. “Regardless, what I’m about to say is not to be contributed to the chatter.”

“I never contribute. Well, rarely, and never about you or Garak.”

There’s nothing for it now but to explain himself. “In the process of him dating, I discovered I was horribly envious, and may in fact be in love with him.”

Kara almost drops her rolling pin. “You swore up and down the two of you were just friends!”

“We are. That’s the problem.”

“You know everyone thought you two were a couple when you arrived.”

“I have augmented hearing, so yes, I’m well aware of what people said.” He also has extensive practice at tuning out what people say about him, so didn’t pay much mind to the chatter when they got there and has continued to ignore it since. By now he’s fairly good at letting conversations fade into background noise.

“You do? That seems like a double-edged sword.”

Most people don’t immediately see the downside. He appreciates that Kara does. “It is.”

“I mean, you act like a couple,” she says, going back to her dough. After a few more passes with the rolling pin, she deftly slips it into a dish. Julian wonders if she can fling pizza dough like he’s seen in period holoprograms. “I’d be surprised if he’s not interested, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

“That’s one concern, yes. The other is if we try and it blows up in our faces. I should add that my most recent ex was a friend, and we didn’t speak for months after we broke up. It’d be worse with Garak.” He frowns at the thought. “And yet I can’t stop thinking about how fantastic we could be together.”

“How did you not realize you’re in love with him?”

It’s a good question. Julian has asked it of himself over the last week, multiple times in fact, and has a two-part explanation. “Firstly, emotional awareness isn’t one of my strengths, as has been pointed out to me on multiple occasions. More to the point, I’ve been in love before, and it never felt like this.”

“How so?”

“There’s no endorphin rush. I suppose you could call it a steadier version, so it snuck up on me.” Or he was burying it as a complication he doesn’t need. Either is possible.

“Sounds like a mature love to me. The kind that lasts.”

He thinks of Palis, how infatuated they were in the throes of young love, and yet even as immature as he was at the time he knew it wasn’t enough to build a life on. However much he loved her – and he truly did – it wasn’t enough to keep him on Earth. Leeta, well, in truth he’s not sure they were ever really in love so much as comfortable and enjoying good sex together. And of course there’s Ezri, with whom he felt burning passion but has slid so easily back into friendship that he has his doubts about their long-term potential.

Kara goes on, “Love changes over time. After seven years together and five married, no one’s going to mistake me and Lutro for newlyweds, but that doesn’t mean we love each other any less. Maybe you skipped the butterflies-in-your-stomach phase and went right to the dependable, loving partnership.”

Or maybe they didn’t. That endorphin rush stage might’ve happened under the guise of friendship, when he floated back to the infirmary after Garak conceded he made a point about one of their books or gave him that one special smile, and Julian was stubbornly ignoring it because he knew that anything more than friendship was impossible.

“Julian?”

“I am far too good at fooling myself,” he says. It’s probably a direct result of all those years he spent trying not to think about his enhancements. Now his default setting is to bury uncomfortable emotional truths.

“No time like the present to stop. I say you should go for it with Garak. Why didn’t you two get together before this, anyway?”

“I was a Starfleet officer who couldn’t afford the extra scrutiny a relationship with a Cardassian would’ve brought.” Particularly when that Cardassian was Garak.

“Even when he worked with us during the war?”

“By then we’d been friends five years, and anything more did not even occur to me.” As Julian spent the first part of the war in a less-than-ideal mental place, it wouldn’t have been a good time regardless. Besides, he knew he was still being watched for any signs he might be a bit less stable or more inclined to megalomania than he appeared, and taking up with a former Obsidian Order agent would’ve done him no favors.

“Let me guess: this has something to do with Garak’s secrets,” Kara says.

“He has a… complicated past.” To put it mildly.

“But none of it matters now.”

“No,” agrees Julian.

Garak is finally, definitively out from Tain’s shadow, able to express his boundless devotion to Cardassia in healthier ways, while Julian has no need to worry about his reputation. Dr. Rabinowitz is happy to have another experienced doctor on staff and isn’t concerned about anyone’s personal life so long as they take good care of patients.

“You’re right,” he says. “What I feel for him is something we can build a life on, if he reciprocates.”

“You’re already building a life on it. At least, that’s how it looks to me.”

Miles was right, too. If Julian doesn’t take the risk, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life. He knows what he needs to do now.

“If he says no, I will be over to mope,” Julian warns.

Kara grins. “My door will be open. But he won’t, and I’m going to want details.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I have a feeling,” replied Kara breezily.

“Forgive me if I don’t find that wholly reassuring.”

“It’s the way he looks at you, Julian. Like you’re the only person in the room.”

“Believe me, Garak is aware of everyone in a room.” As well as all egress points conventional and otherwise, likely hiding spots, and an eye to what objects might be turned into weapons should the occasion arise.

“Maybe, but he doesn’t care about anyone else as long as you’re around.”

That could still be platonic. Julian has made up his mind regardless, so he just needs a plan.

“So you’re going to tell him?” asks Kara. “Because I can do more pep talk if you need.”

“That won’t be necessary, thank you.”

When he doesn’t move, she gives him an impatient look. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“I’m thinking of how to tell him.”

“What do you mean, how to tell him? He speaks Standard, doesn’t he? You say, ‘Garak,’ or I guess you should use his secret first name, ‘I’m in love with you.’ Then you ask him out on a date, since that’s what started this whole thing.”

“No.”

“Well, now you’ve lost me,” says Kara, who’s abandoned all pretense of making her neka torte.

“I need to include something of his culture.” Garak is already facing the rest of his life in the Federation, cut off from his beloved Cardassia. Julian has to make an effort, not expect Garak to be any less Cardassian than he’s always been and will remain.

“That makes sense. It was easy for me, because I’m blunt enough for Betazoids.” She looks around her kitchen. “Is there a Cardassian version of ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?’”

“Kara, you’re a genius.” It’s not about good food, but rather significant food, and Julian knows just the meal.

“I am? How?”

“Chapter forty-seven of _Moonset over Ankala_. According to Garak, the most romantic scene in Cardassian literature in the last forty years.” Yes, that will work perfectly. Getting the dishes is going to require leaving the Vadari system, but Julian is motivated to find a way.

“You’ve lost me again.”

“Half our friendship was built on debating literature,” he explains. “In that scene, after many years of serving the state and their families, two characters who have been friends for years are finally able to express their love. I’ll need a bottle of Murat Psar kanar, lador’est salad, roast madalsi over a bed of steamed vroka, and for dessert, chilled horme-rox.”

Kara stares at him for a minute, then says, “So, you don’t want me to help you make cinnamon buns, then.”

“No, but I appreciate the offer.”

Lurat and Me’Ter never even broached the subject of their love, because they each knew their duty, and that they couldn’t see to their responsibilities if they were together. Granted, they only had three years together before Lurat died and Julian would like many more. A Cardassian happily ever after leaves several decades to be desired. Somewhere in the neighborhood of six decades, if he and Garak follow the usual bell curve for life expectancy. (Garak is older by fifteen years, give or take, but Cardassians live longer, so Julian isn’t statistically likely to outlive him by more than a year.)

“If you put this meal out he’ll know?” asks Kara.

“Oh, yes.” The trick here is going to be surprising him. Garak is a very difficult man to surprise, but it’s not impossible. “May I borrow your computer?”

“Of course,” says Kara. “I should get this crust in the oven. What are you doing?”

“Garak thinks poorly of replicated kanar.” Step one, then, is to see how badly Quark is going to gauge him for the bottle. Knowing Quark, he’s going to try to add a 30% handling fee, which Julian is not in a great position to negotiate down.

He logs into his comm account and gets to work.


	2. Couple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my 100th fic on AO3. =O

Six days later, when the kanar arrives (and Julian’s credit account is nearly depleted), he has everything he needs.

Fortunately, Garak’s collection of replicator patterns included all the food for the meal, and as far as he can tell, Garak doesn’t know he’s accessed them. He told Garak he got called in to the hospital on a day off, during which he went four and a half light years over to replicate the meal and earned himself multiple raised eyebrows on that station. The food has been sitting in Kara’s stasis unit until he could get the kanar.

Julian did his planning at Kara’s under the guise of taking cooking lessons. She even sent him home with some food to prop up the charade, and thus they’ve learned Garak does not like lasagna but he’s fond of carrot cake.

Lutro, equal parts amused and perplexed by the elaborate preparations, is now stalling Garak in his shop while Julian gets everything set up in their apartment. Kara wants to see the final product and he owes her that, so she’s eyeing the food as he dishes it out.

“Garak can’t say you haven’t incorporated his culture,” she declares, wrinkling her nose at the vroka. “This is an impressive romantic gesture.”

Julian hopes it is. His nerves have kicked into overdrive because there’s so much at stake here. If Garak isn’t interested, he desperately wants to salvage their friendship.

No regrets over failing to take the chance, he reminds himself.

Far too late, it occurs to him that if Garak isn’t interested this meal is going to be impossible to shrug off as though it’s not a big deal. Maybe that’s a good thing? It will demonstrate that he’s quite serious, if nothing else. In any event, it’s too late to back out now.

“That blue stuff smells vile,” says Kara.

“It’s vroka.”

“Have you ever eaten it?”

He and Garak went through a period of trying the food mentioned in each other’s books before mutually concluding the experiment had run its course. “In sem’hal stew. It’s not great, but tastes better than it smells. And kanar isn’t bad if you get the less viscous varieties. Do you want to try a sip?”

He may possibly be trying to distract himself from nerves by going on about the food, but it seems polite to offer all the same.

“I don’t drink,” says Kara. “My mother was an alcoholic and I’m not interested in going down the same path.”

“I’m glad you told me before I showed up to dinner with a bottle of wine.” Julian has never been a real wine aficionado. His main use for it is as a commonly welcomed host gift, because he’ll take a good ale or Saurian brandy any day, and thanks to Miles he’s gotten a taste for whisky as well.

“I’ve been known to regift wine,” says Kara. “Do you like it?”

“I can take it or leave it.”

The roast madalsi is whole, so Julian slices off three pieces. They are wobbly.

“What’s wrong?” Kara asks.

“I wonder if this is a different cut of meat than in the book. Different cuts of meat behave differently, right? They’re supposed to be propped against each other to form a pyramid.”

He cuts larger slices and has better results, though they still sag in the middle.

“Don’t worry. On the plate we have vroka to keep them stable.” Kara gets to work strategically arranging the meal, and after a minute has a credible madalsi pyramid.

The salads go to the left side of their plates, as they were placed in deference to Lurat’s left-handedness, and Julian puts dessert on the counter where Garak can see it. That completes the meal, as close to the scene from _Moonset over Ankala_ as can be managed. (Alas, there’s nothing to be done about the lack of chirping nort birds. He couldn’t find a sound clip.)

“It looks good,” says Kara. “Is this like the book?”

“Yes. Now I just need to change.”

“Is this another thing you’re trying to copy? Wearing the same color?”

“No. Garak has strong opinions about my wardrobe, and they tend to the negative except regarding the clothes he had a hand in. I thought I’d put on a shirt he made for me.”

“That’s sweet.”

The shirt in question is the one Garak made as a thank you when Julian declined his own apartment, a short-sleeved ivory number to which Garak, knowing Julian’s fondness for bright colors, added vibrant red detailing around the asymmetrical neckline. Though different from his usual style, it’s undeniably flattering, and the red keeps it from being dull.

He also swaps his grey trousers for brown, because according to Garak it’s a crime against good taste to wear grey with ivory if an alternative is available.

The outfit meets with Kara’s approval. “You look great. Oh! Garak is on his way up now.”

She has a mental bond with her husband in the Betazoid fashion, though she says it’s weak and distance-limited to the point where many Betazoids feel sorry for Lutro. Relative strength notwithstanding, it comes in handy right now.

Julian gives the scene a final glance and sees nothing out of order. “I hope this isn’t a terrible mistake.”

“It isn’t,” promises Kara. “He’s going to be thrilled. I want to hear all about it, but I’m willing to wait until tomorrow. You might be busy tonight.” She throws him the sector’s least subtle wink on her way out the door.

Then it’s just Julian and his increasing apprehension.

No regrets.

When he hears the door mechanism, he takes a deep breath and tries not to look terrified. He’ll know either way soon enough.

Garak doesn’t make it through the door before he goes still for half a second. Success on the surprise front, then. He takes in the whole display, eyes lingering on every detail Julian attempted to copy from the book.

When Garak doesn’t immediately reject him, Julian finds his voice. “You said you were considering your options. Would you consider me?”

In seven and a half years Julian has never seen Garak at a loss for words. It’s an accomplishment, if not one he’s able to enjoy at the moment.

Finally, _finally,_ Garak speaks. “You realize, of course, the gravity of this statement.”

Julian does. He’s asking, in the best Cardassian form he can manage, for a committed and exclusive relationship, not something Garak can be expected to take lightly. When he’s not playing a role, Garak avoids making promises in part because he feels obligated to keep them or die trying, and he’d rather not put himself in a position where he needs to die trying if it can be helped.

“I realize perfectly,” Julian answers.

“I would ask that you be certain.”

Some of the tension in Julian’s neck starts to ease. Garak is really considering this, interested even, if only Julian can assuage his reasonable concerns.

“I know I have a history of failing to look before I leap, but that’s not the case this time. I’ve given it a great deal of thought, and yes, I’m terrified of ruining what we share. However, I’ve never made my choices based on fear and I’m not about to start now. This is what I want, Elim. Us, together. You and me against the galaxy.”

“Are we planning to fight the entire galaxy?” It’s a stall for time while Garak thinks, and his tone is amused enough to suggest Julian will like his final answer.

“You know it’s an idiom.”

“And you know I find your human idioms peculiar. Nevertheless, if I were to find myself in the regrettable position of having the forces of the galaxy arrayed against me, there is no one else I would have by my side.”

That’s promising. “So… yes?”

“Had I known you were an option, I wouldn’t have concerned myself with any other.” With this bit of what strikes Julian as perfect honesty, Garak strides forward and puts his hands on Julian’s shoulders in a face-to-face echo of their first meeting. “The future holds possibilities I never permitted myself to carry.”

That’s a quote from _Moonset over Ankala_ , so Julian leans in and kisses him.

As first kisses go, it’s strong on emotion and weak on technical prowess. They’ll have to work on that, provided Garak is willing to indulge Julian. Kissing isn’t nearly the commonplace activity among Cardassians it is for humans, but he seems enthusiastic enough, so Julian doesn’t foresee major problems.

Now Julian is torn. He would like to do quite a bit more than kiss. On the other hand, if they start taking off clothes, the hot food will get cold and the cold food warm, and he went through an awful lot of trouble to get this meal.

Garak takes the decision out of his hands. “Before as go further, it would be prudent to discuss expectations.”

Right. That is the mature and reasonable way to go about this. “We’re still going to be the same people,” Julian says, having mulled the idea over for two weeks. “I don’t see the need for massive changes, aside from a healthy amount of sex. I have it on good authority we’re already acting like a couple.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Garak is still waiting for something. “By expectations did you mean conditions?” guesses Julian. That would be very Cardassian. “I don’t have a list of requirements I’m demanding you meet.”

“It is your right.”

A couple of scenes Julian has read over the years suddenly make more sense. “Do you have conditions?”

“My ability to set parameters is much less than yours,” says Garak.

“Never mind the Cardassian status rules.” He is happy to incorporate some of Garak’s cultural norms, but barring Garak from stating his needs is frankly ridiculous.

“Very well. Beyond the obvious implication for fidelity, I want to know immediately if you have even the remotest suspicion that Section 31 is a renewed threat to you, no matter how trivial or nonsensical it may seem.”

Julian nods. “Of course we’re going to be exclusive. You’re not the sharing type, and in this respect neither am I. And you want us to be a team, to rely on each other. That goes both ways, you know.”

“I am not accustomed to relying on anyone.” As though Julian hadn’t noticed. After a weighty pause, Garak adds, “But I will try.”

“That’s all I ask. Though I would like to know your birthday.”

“My birthday?”

“So we can celebrate it.”

Garak’s smile means he’s been caught unawares and is proud of Julian for doing so. “I was born on the twelfth day of Katroan.”

Julian does a quick bit of mental math. “Six weeks from now, then. Union year two hundred and ninety-seven, or thereabouts?”

“You’re familiar with the Cardassian calendar?”

Splendid, he’s surprised Garak again. “I looked it up years ago. With the intention of impressing you, actually.” Keeping track of multiple calendars is easy. Earth, Invernia II, Bajor, Trill, Cardassia, the Vadari moons, Tellar thanks to a middle school project – Julian could add more if he cared to.

“Were you waiting for an opportune moment to mention it?”

“I decided it might look too clever. I had to be more careful with you than anyone else.” Spending time with Garak was always a risk, in those days. It was also far to invigorating to stop.

“Hmm,” says Garak, a noise of approval at Julian’s past self-protection. “Thereabouts, yes. You’re off by two years.”

“You’re not going to tell me which way?” It’s not a surprise, really.

“That wouldn’t be any fun.”

Julian actually agrees. It’s another reason they’re so well-suited for each other. He kisses Garak again because he can do that now, as often as he likes, which will be often indeed. Garak wants the touching as well, if his disinclination to remove his hands from Julian’s shoulders is anything to go by.

Garak eyes their dinner approvingly. “We should enjoy our meal. It is the second-nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Only the second?” He’d been hoping for first place.

“It’s difficult to best the time an astonishingly naïve young doctor personally visited Enabran Tain to demand the means to save my life.”

Knowing what he knows now, yes, that was one of his more reckless decisions. It worked out, if only because Tain was an utter bastard who wanted Garak to suffer. Julian has issues with his own father, but compared to Enabran Tain, Richard Bashir doesn’t look so bad. 

“I don’t think I’ve mentioned that chilled horme-rox is considered an aphrodisiac,” says Garak as he sits.

If they need one for their first time, they’d have a problem. “You haven’t, and it’s not going to be necessary.”

“No, but I intend to enjoy it all the same. Let’s enjoy this meal. We have no need to rush.”

Part of Julian thinks they’ve waited plenty long enough. He sits anyway. He’s far too happy to quibble, and doesn’t want to waste the food after all his pains to acquire it.

“You shouldn’t take my inclination to savor the evening as meaning I am any less delighted,” adds Garak.

Julian grins. “I won’t, then.”

After one sip, Garak’s eyes widen slightly. “This is not replicated kanar.”

“No.” By pressing Quark’s desire to sell a bottle of expensive kanar and his lack of other customers, Julian managed to get it for only a 20% handling fee and an almost reasonable price.

“You’ve provided an evening of enjoyable surprises.”

“That was the plan.” Julian is quite pleased with himself for pulling it off.

The salad meets with Garak’s approval as well. It’s too peppery for Julian’s taste, but he’s not in the mood to care about such a minor detail.

On second bite, it has an unappealingly sour addition. Julian scanned the whole meal to make sure it wouldn’t be dangerous for him, and it isn’t, though he wouldn’t want to consume this much potassium on a regular basis. Safe for consumption does not mean pleasant tasting, however, and there’s some kind of pickled vegetable peel he doesn’t care for. He pushes it to the side as discreetly as he can, more interested in watching Garak savor Cardassian food than eating it himself.

“May I inquire what inspired this?” asks Garak, gesturing to the meal. “I had not been under the impression it would happen.”

“Honestly? Plestrendetrek asked you out and I suddenly felt overwhelming jealousy.”

Garak’s eyeridges fly up. “You didn’t realize you wanted more than friendship until I went on a date with someone else?”

“Yes, I know emotional awareness isn’t one of my strengths, thank you.”

“If I’d know that was all it took to get your attention, I’d have gone on a date long ago.” Garak says this calmly while loading his fork with salad, tone even as though he’s remarking on the weather.

Julian pauses with his own fork halfway to his mouth. “Wait. You’ve been interested for a long time?”

“I believe I just said that. This is excellent kanar.”

Julian is glad he likes it and yet refuses to be distracted. “And you didn’t say anything because of the Cardassian social status system, about which you neglected to inform me?”

“I didn’t think you wanted anything beyond friendly flirtation, and apparently I wasn’t the only one.”

“I briefly thought about it years ago, but I was hiding an illegal secret and you were possibly spying for a hostile government.”

Besides, neither of them was ready before. Julian had to mature and learn some unpalatable realities. Garak had to reckon with some harsh truths of his own and leave Cardassia of his own belief that it’s the right thing to do. They’ve both grown to the point where they can work as a couple.

“Hence the reference to _Moonset over Ankala_. I’m impressed by the parallel you drew, and the not inconsiderable effort this must have required. You were not taking cooking lessons with Ms. Whitsell.”

“No, but she couldn’t get the jar of sauce open, so I technically helped with the lasagna.”

Garak is clearly dubious that the contribution qualifies.

“I didn’t get called in to work three days ago, either.”

“Obviously. This was all very well done, my dear. I’m honored that you went to so much trouble for me.”

“You’re worth it,” says Julian, so happy he can’t stop smiling at Garak like the besotted man he is.

They’ve been on Vadari VII nearing six months now, and it’s always felt barely acceptable. Not where he wanted to be by a long shot, but not as bad as having his medical license revoked the way he’d feared for years. Now, thinking of a future shared with Garak, Julian thinks this place could really become a home, in time.

That night, having already pushed their beds together to better facilitate sex, Julian falls asleep with Garak’s arm flung possessively over his chest.


End file.
